Rock Chick Renegade (Rock Chick #4)(12)

“Do I have your attention?” he asked.

Yes, he had my attention. He seriously had my attention.

“How did you get in here? My alarm –” I started.

“I disabled it.”

“Oh my God,” I said again.

My alarm was a good one. Nick had it installed for me. It had settings for when I was home and when I was not. The motion sensors had been specifically placed so Boo wouldn’t set them off, even if he used his kitty flap. When an intruder tripped it, an alarm sounded and it immediately called a security dispatch then the police. It was not a rinky-dink alarm, it cost a fortune, not only installation but monthly maintenance fees.

“How did you disable it?” I asked.

He didn’t answer, instead he gave me his shit-eating grin.

Then it came to me where I was, where he was and I bucked to throw him off.

This didn’t work.

“Get off me!” I yelled.

“We’re gonna talk,” Crowe replied.

“No… we… are… not. Off!” I was using my Law-at-the-Shelter-telling-off-the-kids voice.

This had no effect on Crowe.

“Don’t make me hurt you,” I warned, mostly for show.

The shit-eating grin spread to an amused smile and that pissed me off.

“Like to see you try,” he said it like he would, indeed, like to see me try.

It was a challenge and, because I was all kinds of fool, I took him up on it.

Heavy and Frank had shown me a number of moves and they’d made me practice them until my body ached. Unfortunately, these moves were mostly done standing up but I used them all the same.

We wrestled and I realized Crowe knew all my moves, knew also how to deflect them and he had far more moves in his arsenal, not to mention he was a hell of a lot stronger than me.

Nevertheless, I pushed him off, got my opening and surged to my feet on the bed in order to run. This was not smart considering the platform where my bed sat had a five foot ceiling.

I slammed the top of my head against it and then went down, hard, on my knees. I saw stars and my right palm went to my head, my left palm came out to steady my body and landed on Crowe’s chest. I settled my ass on my calves.

“Jesus, Law, you okay?” Crowe asked, coming up from his back, taking my hand with him.

I blinked to take the stars away. This didn’t work so I blinked again.

“Jules?” Crowe called, using my real name for the first time. One of his hands went to my hip, the other one was sliding up the arm that was lifted toward my head.

With effort, I focused on him. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

I was sitting back on my calves, my hand still on his chest. He was sitting up, torso twisted to me, hands on me. His face had softened to concern, a look that did something to my heart rate.

I took him in.

He was wearing his clothes from last night, without the jacket, a black henley now untucked and jeans. His feet were bare.

For some reason, I stared at his feet.

Most feet weren’t very attractive but his were somehow sexy. How he could have sexy feet, I did not know, but I figured if anyone would have sexy feet, the unfair laws of the universe that made everything about Vance Crowe sexy, would also give him sexy feet.

This reminded me I was pissed off.

I made a move, hopeful that I’d take him off guard but, alas, I didn’t.

His hand moved from my hip, his arm swept under my legs pulling them out from under me and I landed, head on the pillows again.

He got on top and we struggled. I looked for a chance to knee him in the ‘nads but he got up, sat astride me, making my legs useless even though I kicked out to dislodge him. He caught my wrists and held them down at the sides of my head and loomed over me. I pushed my wrists against his hands and bucked my hips. He didn’t move.

“Get off!” I shouted.

“No. You lose, now you talk,” he said.

“Get… off,” I demanded.

“What were you doin’ last night?” he asked, ignoring my demand.

I stared at him, stopped struggling and kept silent.

“Who was that kid?” he went on.

I kept my mouth shut.

“Is he from King’s?” Crowe continued.

I felt my heart begin to race but I kept my face blank or at least I hoped I did.

“He one of your street kids?” Crowe kept at it and I kept silent.

“This have to do with Park?” he carried on and, I couldn’t help it, my body stilled at his use of Park’s name and my head turned slightly to the side in an attempt to hide my reaction.

How he knew about Park, King’s and my “street kids” I didn’t know and I didn’t want to know. But he told me.

“You’re on record as finding Park’s body. You made a statement to the police, told them you were workin’ with him at King’s. Park had a juvie file a mile long, last few years of his life, your name is in it,” he paused, “Jules, your name is in it a lot.”

I looked back at him and frowned but kept silent.

He changed tactics. “Tell me about Cordova.”

I clenched my teeth and just stared at him. When I didn’t speak, he stared back at me.

Then he did the change. I saw it, felt it and was captivated by it.

I watched, enthralled, as his head came toward mine. My racing heart skipped into overdrive and I felt a belly flutter so strong it had to be off the charts.